


two guns, one bullet and a fuckton of cocaine. (all in a day’s work.)

by whiskeyjuniper



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Action, Cat and Mouse, Detective AU, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyjuniper/pseuds/whiskeyjuniper
Summary: Detective Shane Madej is very good at his job. Or he was, before that job entailed trying to catch the notorious Ricky Goldsworth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Found this writing prompt on tumblr and re-blogged asking someone to make it a Shyan story, before realizing I could just do it my damn self. Enjoy. :)  
> That being said, anyone else wants to add to this AU, I would be your first reader in a heartbeat. :p
> 
> (for those of you waiting for Host of Sheets update, I wrote this instead this week before inspiration left, so Host will be back next weekish, I’m starting on it this weekend. Thanks for reading! <3)

Detective Shane Madej was having a bad day, but he was beginning to find that had become the norm since being assigned this case.

“He fuckin’ beat us to it again.”

His partner, Detective Jen Ruggirello, pursed her lips, looking around the warehouse. It was stripped bare, save for the officers and SWAT team around them. It didn’t look like it saw much use; dusty, bird droppings in the rafters- gulls probably, they could hear them squawking in tune with the waves of the ocean right outside.

Shane didn’t respond to her for a moment, running a finger over a bare counter. He examined his fingertip idly. It was covered in a dusty powder.

“He was here, I’d be willing to bet on it. Get forensics in here and they’ll find this isn’t all dust. Probably moved stations again. He’s quick.” Shane said.

“I don’t understand. We got the hint he was dropping a shipment tonight. Where the hell did it go?” Jen slipped off her hat and ran a hand through her short-cropped hair. It was thick and stood in a wild tousle when she did that. She never noticed. Shane didn’t mind; it amused him.

‘One step ahead of us as always, I suppose,” Shane said.

“You don’t sound too torn up about it.”

“Not yet, I’m… thinking.”

He circled the machinery, examining it while the cops around him scanned entrances and exits and chattered to one another. He blocked them out, focusing. Tried to, at least. Two of them were making it particularly hard.

“This is such a fuckin’ waste of time, Madej. Just admit he beat your ass again and let us go home.”

“Stress startin’ to get to ya? Whatcha accomplished since snagging the Goldsworth case?”

He was blocking. Them. Out.

This was where Ricky had been. The intel was good, he knew it was. Goldsworth wasn’t a ghost. He had to be here. Somewhere.

“This place isn’t big enough to be his whole operation. He transferred how much in that last haul? A lot. This can’t be the whole workspace. ...Unless this is just another storage site, and all we found is one more rung in the ladder,” said Shane.

He was speaking to Jen, not the two assholes. That didn’t stop them from responding.

“This is obviously just where they kept it, it’s not where they were making the stuff. Give it up, man.”

Did the man mean the lead that led them here, or the case altogether? It was true; he could give up on the case without shame. He wasn’t the first detective tasked with catching Ricky Goldsworth. He probably wouldn’t be the last either, the way things were going. But either way Shane didn’t like giving up on things. And Ricky was supposed to be here, so.

There were no other doors. The square feet of the interior was the same as the exterior. Second floor was only a simple metal catwalk that led to a small, dusty office. Ground floor was empty save for the machinery, a conveyor belt and some stripped work counters... The thing was, it all looked strangely new. Unrusted, unused. Even the buttons of the conveyor belt hadn’t had their shine worn off by hours of oily fingerprints, save one. The belt itself looked a little worn, though. Strange. He examined it curiously, and pushed the only button that wasn’t shiny and new-looking. 

Nothing happened.

Jen furrowed her brows and came over.

“Power’s on. You think it’s broken?” She said.

“Broken, or meant to do something else. See any buttons that look worn down besides the one here? It doesn’t seem to do anything.” 

Jen brushed her thumb over something Shane couldn’t see from his vantage point and grinned, “Maybe not by itself, it doesn’t.” 

She pressed down on something with a furrowed brow and then leaned over past Shane to press the button beside him as well. The machinery whirred to life.

Shane and Jen grinned at each other and watched as the conveyor belt started to run. The rubber tracking chugged along, the dusting of powder on the surface falling away to something cleaner and black. Shane smiled to himself. Odd that only the visible part of the conveyor belt was dusted in cocaine, like someone had purposely decorated it- like they wanted to prove that was the only thing they were using the belt for, certainly not for anything like-

Shane snorted when the conveyor belt chugged a little further, and then opened up- there was a doorway cut into the rubber that displayed a staircase leading down into darkness. He pressed the power button again and the belt stopped. He and Jen examined the staircase, both of them leaning forward to peer down.

“Going down?” Shane said to Jen. They grinned and high-fived.

“The floor plans didn’t say anything about a basement,” said Jen.

“Don’t think it’s started out that way.”

The lieutenant came over at the commotion, “Good job, detectives. It might just be their escape route, but SWAT’s going first just in case anyone’s still down there. Keep a good distance behind.”

Shane nodded, and the lieutenant gestured to the SWAT team. They filed down the staircase silently, then Shane and Jen followed.

It was definitely not a basement that followed any building codes or regulations Shane knew of. The steps were uneven, poured cement. Shane felt something tighten in the hollow of this throat. He hadn’t heard about any of this. He didn’t like going in blind.

The staircase led to a hallway. Guns up and ready.

_“Heat signatures on the other side of the door,”_ The man in front gestured. Shane squared his shoulders. Anxiety and anticipation muddled in his gut in even amounts. Was Ricky really on the other side of that door? He couldn’t be that stupid, could he? He’d somehow already known Shane had the info, and he was already gone, and Shane would try again. He’d always try again. He was stubborn like that.

They busted the door down, Shane gritting his teeth at the scraping clash of metal on wood- he wasn’t fond of noise. Detective work was quiet, mostly, and interesting. There was a reason he’d never tried for SWAT. All bros and chaos and shouting- like they were doing now, as they tossed smoke grenades through the entry. Shane wasn’t all too happy about that either; it was going to be a lot harder to ID Ricky in the fray.

Gunshots rang back in response, and lots of them. Apparently Ricky had an entourage. 

Fuck.

Shane felt Jen’s slight presence beside him. She barely went up to his collarbones, his miniature shadow. He heard the click of her safety in unison with his own.

Shane and Jen went through the doorway, sticking close to the wall. They didn’t have to go in any further- SWAT was taking care of things, they could cover them and watch the entrance. The room was full of crates and countertops, and half-bagged cocaine. But Shane quickly caught a glimpse of something far more interesting, up on the catwalk of the second level. A familiar dark-haired boy with a familiar dark smile. 

Son of a bitch. It was him. Hoodie pulled down low, sunglasses. What a dumbass. Did he really think they wouldn’t be able to ID him?

Shane took a potshot at him just in irritation. He knew he couldn’t get a good shot in, it just felt good.

And then he darted, taking cover behind a storage containter. He could hear Jen yelling at him- he’d get reamed later. She’d be right. He wasn’t thinking.

He skidded around the corner, boots scraping right, gun flicking left to take out some of Ricky’s men before they could turn his way and notice him coming. He didn’t catch all the them though, no-

Shane turned away as the edges of his blockade shattered from a stray bullet, shrapnel scraping his cheekbones. He felt the string, but when he rubbed his knuckles across it they came away dry, no blood.

He did a quick scan. Ricky had twelve men, maybe? Hard to tell through the ugly fluorescent lighting; it threw deep shadows all around, easy to hide in. Ricky himself was up on the metal catwalk that looped all the way around the room. Doorways circled it. He had lots of exits available to him-

“Madej, what are you _doing?”_ Jen shouted.

“Fall back, watch the entrance.” Shane said back to her. He’d never been in an all out shoot-out before. This wasn’t fuckin’ anything like the movies. It was just noise and chaos all around him. No one hero could track this many enemies in 360- he was was skirting the outer wall and that was hard enough even without have to watch his back-

“Yeah, we’re _both_ supposed to be back there, you dumbass-” Jen’s gaze darted around, before she ducked after him. 

But wait. Where the hell did Ricky go? While Shane was distracted, he’d lost track of him. He wasn’t on the catwalk anymore. Shane scanned the area desperately. 

Jen saw him first. Or at least, she thought she did. She lit up and trained her gun on a young man trying to escape through a door near them. He was holding a duffle bag- looked heavy. He was the right build and height, matched the descriptions, and was acting confident, ordering some of the other men around. Shane could see where Jen might have been confused.

But Shane could see Ricky, hopping down from the catwalks, striding towards them. The one he knew was the right Ricky, ducking through the shadowed corner, lifting his gun to train it on Jen-

Shane stepped forward to block Jen, stepping in front of the path of Ricky’s gun.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he hissed, his gun aimed right at Ricky’s forehead. Jen glanced his way, gun still trained on the other man. He’d put his hands up, so Jen stepped forward with handcuffs. She’d be busy. Shane concentrated on Ricky.

“Detective Madej! I’ve heard so much about you.” Ricky, for his part, seemed delighted to have his attention. 

Ricky grinned, all teeth. “You wouldn’t shoot me. I’ve been told you don’t believe in Hell. Wouldn’t you rather me see justice rotting in a jail cell?”

Shane shifted his arm a fraction to the left and pulled the trigger. His bullet ripped through Ricky’s arm, his gun clattering free to the ground, Ricky unable to keep his grip.

“Yes.” Shane said.

Ricky scowled, pressing his hand over the wound in his arm with a wince. The big baby- Shane was sure he barely nicked him.

“Been awhile since we’ve been face to face like this, hasn’t it?” Ricky’s smile was a little more gritted this time. “Your pretty face just has a way of making my workday a little bit better.” 

Shane pursed his lips, feeling his cheeks heat despite himself.

“Stop fuckin’ talking and get down on the ground.”

“Oh. Bad day? Sorry ‘bout that- I should be letting you go, shouldn’t I?

Ricky raised his hands to Shane in supplication, but his gaze darted left, towards one of the others in his crew. He gave a slight nod. Shane knew it was a trap, he just knew it, but he also knew taking his gun off of Ricky would be an even bigger mistake. Shane looked over, half a glance, just in time to see one of Ricky’s men pull a lever.

He heard the loud grind of metal on metal, chains whipping, and Ricky gave him a wink, holding his bloodied arm. “See you later baby.” 

“Ricky, I swear to God, I-”

But he was drowned out by the sound of rushing water. A lot of it. Shane whipped his head in the direction of the sound, and Ricky took off running.

The left wall to the basement was an oversized sliding door. A waterproof sliding door, strong enough to hold back to the ocean. It was rolling open in a metal grind, and water poured in.

Half of Ricky’s men saw it coming, already running. The other half was just as confused as the police force, everyone scattering in unison just a minute too late.

Shane took a deep breath just as the waves crashed over him. He kicked his feet, trying to see through the blurry layers of salt and ocean around him. It burned. There wasn’t a lot of debris around him that he could see- the room had been mostly empty- although he did idly wonder about the bags of cocaine, how diluted would it be in water? He was about to find out, he supposed.

His head broke the surface and he took a grateful gasp of air, scanning the room for Jen. She and others were already pulling themselves onto the catwalk, out of the water. She waved him over.

“Stairs over here!”

He pulled himself out of the water, running after her- though they probably didn’t need to rush; it seemed like the water level was equalizing, caught up to the level of the ocean outside. It gave them a good amount of air, wading along the catwalk in water up to their waists. Shane and Jen exchanged looks. Their crime scene had been ruined, soaked with salt and smeared cocaine. But Jen was happier than Shane was, as they walked the handcuffed perp up the stairs; Jen’s Ricky, along with a few of his lackeys too slow to swim out.

It wasn’t all a disaster. Some, but not all.

…..

“We caught Ricky Goldsworth!”

Jen’s dark eyes gleamed, nearly dancing in her chair beside Shane, back at their station. She’d showered and changed into clean clothes, her hair still damp.

“We’re gonna be famous, Shane!”

Shane had to bite his tongue. He knew they hadn’t, but he didn’t really feel like explaining just _how_ he knew. It wasn’t proof- at least not the sort of proof Jen would like.

“I just don’t think that’s him. Call it intuition.” Shane offered instead, but didn’t clarify further.

“Well. We’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, go home! Take a shower, take a nap. We’ve been here long enough for one day, Shane.” She laid a hand on Shane’s shoulder and Shane grinned. 

“A nap? But I’m a big boy.”

“...You are right though.” He said after though, before she thought he was trying to convince her they should stay. He didn’t want to stay any longer; he wanted to go home, check on things. Recalibrate.

He said his goodbyes and drove home in a mental fog, tightness growing in his chest like a mechanical vise over each individual chamber of his heart. 

They didn’t find Goldsworth’s body, so he was still out there. But what if he was wounded? He could’ve crawled somewhere in hiding. Could even be dying right now. 

Shane didn’t like uncertainties. 

His fingers gripped the wheel until they turned white, running and rerunning the scenarios in his head until he pulled into his driveway.

His hands shook a little as he pulled the keys out of his bag, unlocked his front door. Shane stepped through the entryway of his apartment, dropped off his bag to the side of the couch. 

And saw Ricky Goldsworth, covered in blood, standing in his kitchen. Staring at him.

Shane’s eyes widened. He paused. His gaze flicked over the bloodied, half-assed wrapped bandages on his arm. RIcky lost a lot of blood, but it didn’t seem as bad as it could have been. He still had use of his arm, looked like, holding a glass of water. 

Shane could see the outline of his gun at his side, under his hoodie.

“So… How was your day at work?” Shane asked, attempting a smile.

Ricky’s eyes narrowed.

“YOU FUCKIN’ SHOT ME. THAT WAS MY DAY.”

Yep. He was fine. Shane could relax.

“You lived,” Shan pointed out, “Also, you did a terrible job wrapping that.”

Ricky snorted, “Can’t exactly go to the hospital, can I?”

“Come over here. I’ll help you.” Shane went to the cupboards, pulling out his first aid kit as Ricky came around to the dining room table. He sat with a grumpy wince as the movement jostled his arm. 

Shane sat across from him. He leaned forward to withdraw Ricky’s gun from the holster, setting it on his dining room table. And then handed him two ibuprofen. Ricky looked down at them, and then grinned, just a little.

“Got anything stronger?”

“No. Just take them, you big baby.”

Ricky laughed and swallowed them with a gulp of water, as Shane pulled up a chair next to him and started unwrapping the bandages. He reached out to rub a thumb over the ring on Ricky’s hand, the one that matched his own.

“You shouldn’t wear that while you’re working, Ryan. You don’t want people looking too closely into our personal life.” 

“Ah no, you definitely want me wearing it. You know how many people want a piece of Ricky Goldsworth?” Ryan gestured lazily at his own frame. “Besides, you wear yours.”

“I regret it. You know how many people ask about why they haven’t met you yet? I can’t say, ‘oh, ‘cause you know how damn similar he looks to our official police sketch of the most notorious mob boss in LA? It’s _damn_ uncanny’. And fuckin’ Jen- she saw your face, you dumbass. What are we supposed to do now? Why were you even there? You didn’t need to be there.”

Shane knew he was ranting a little, pouring alcohol over the wound on Ryan’s shoulder and scraping it for shrapnel none too gently, irritated. Ryan hissed.

“Nah, I had to be there. To distract you.”

“From what?”

”You woulda seen the money moving if you hadn’t been distracted by my pretty face. You’re too smart for your own good.”

“That was your plan A? I’m disappointed in you.”

“No, that was my plan D. Plan A was you saw the empty warehouse and assumed I escaped out from under your nose. You’re pretty good at your job, Madej. Think you’re soooo fucking smart.”

Shane gave a little shrug, flattered despite himself. He wrapped the wound carefully, closing off the bandages and looking back on his work, pleased. Looked good. Clean. ‘Ricky’ would be fine.

He patted the bandages. “There. All done.” Ryan seemed pleased enough with it, looking it over. He flexed his arm gingerly, then smiled, “Thanks baby.”

“Aren't you going to give me a thank-you kiss? You made my day very hard.” Shane tapped a finger on the table, waiting.

“I made _your_ day hard? I lost a fuckton of cocaine today!” Ricky threw up his arms in frustration, then winced.

“In the fuckin’ ocean. That was your fault. Coulda drowned me, by the way.”

“You’re a good swimmer. It was a calculated risk.”

Shane rubbed at his temple, trying to ignore the headache starting. He needed a shower- he smelled like fish.

“When are we going to stop playing this game? Jen can ID you now, and she was really looking forward to meeting my husband.” 

Ryan pursed his lips, “Well. I was kinda having fun, the cat and mouse of it. But is this even worthwhile anymore? We know each other so well. Too well.”

“Was it ever fun?” Shane asked, “My job is to put you in jail. I like doing well at my job. But I’m also rather fond of my sweet, dumbass husband Ryan.”

“Aren’t you just sweet. You could quit whenever you wanted, you know.”

“So you could you.”

“But I’m Ricky Goldsworth, baby!”

Shane paused.

“...Really, why did you have to be there at the warehouse?” He asked. Something must have shown in his voice, because Ryan considered the question.

Then shrugged. “Honestly? I like the rush.” He looked aside, “You didn’t have to go easy on me, you know. You let me get away.”

“I had to. Doing well at my job means you end up dead or in jail. You doing well at your job just means I end up looking bad. Big difference.”

“So quit then. My job pays better.”

“Does it?” Shane didn’t believe him. Big risk meant big reward, but big losses. Ricky was always treading water.

Ryan smiled, just a little curl of thing like a satisfied cat. “This time, yeah. You helped. We’re rich, baby.”

Ryan steepled his fingers, leaned forward a little until their noses brushed.

“That wasn’t my base you crashed. Not my men. Was my cocaine, some of it, but wasn’t my money. You just helped me take down the semi-notorious- but not half as badass as me- Tinsley gang. And I got away with their money when the rooms flooded. It’s in a safe house, ready for pick-up anytime, with no one left to miss it.”

Shane considered this. “Huh. Well, they were a pain in the ass too.” He said, slowly. Ryan lifted his gaze to catch Shane’s, and a silent moment of understanding passed between them, both of them considering.

Ryan moved first, standing to go to the fridge and withdraw two beers. He passed one to Shane.

“You know, I haven’t gone back to my men yet. They don’t know I made it out alive. And with your men happily announcing the capture of Ricky Goldsworth... I dunno, maybe this is a good time.”

He popped his beer, raised it in the air. Shane mirrored him, watching him curiously.

“To Ricky Goldsworth. Maybe he did die in that shootout…” Ryan let it trail off and Shane smiled.

“Yeah, I dunno. Maybe let it be a mystery.”

They grinned, toasted and took a long drink of their beers. Shane closed his eyes, feeling a tension settle out in his shoulders. Had he won? Ricky Goldsworth was dead and Detective Shane Madej was victorious?

Shane stood, stretched and leaned down to kiss Ryan’s temple. Then his lips, cupping the back of his neck. Ryan leaned into the kiss, letting his eyes slip closed.

“So Goldsworth is presumed dead, and Detective Shane Madej decides maybe it’s time to pick up and start a new life? Somewhere he can happily introduce his husband to his coworkers?” Shane murmured, and Ryan opened his eyes again, brightening.

“Still needs to be somewhere warm. I’m a California boy, through and through.” He grinned. Shane thumped his nose.

“Sure. Warm. I’m going to shower, scrub off the whole fuckin’ ocean. Afterwards, come watch TV with me? I’m exhausted. We can talk about running away together later.”

“I’ll come help you.” Ryan grinned, a wicked glint in his eye.

“Your arm.”

“I’ll work around that.”

Shane didn’t object; he knew better than to argue with Ryan about most things, unless he felt like keeping it going(which was often, to be fair.) But right now he was tired, and had other things on his mind as they made their way upstairs to the bathroom.

“Admit, you’ll miss Ricky.” Ryan said.

“Nah, I won’t. I love Ryan,” Shane said, then laughed, “Maybe I get to be the notorious crime boss in the next city. The name’s... Banjo. Banjo Mclintock.”

“That’s a dumb name.”

They laughed as they stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, the seeds of a new life already beginning to sprout.


	2. Podfic Version!

The lovely Shmaylor offered to make a podfic version of this! Listen to it here:

[https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269799](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269799/)

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] two guns, one bullet and a fuckton of cocaine. (all in a day’s work.)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269799) by [Shmaylor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmaylor/pseuds/Shmaylor)




End file.
